


The Scroll

by ZephiraZ



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Starring Aethas Sunreaver's Thighs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephiraZ/pseuds/ZephiraZ
Summary: A collection of short drabbles, primarily revolving around Aethas Sunreaver.





	1. The Scroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Aethas delivers the results of his research, and Rommath casts a spell.

Imagine a story without a plot. No beginning, no end. Rife with imagery and prose that holds no meaning. Did anything transpire to bring it to this place? Would anything meaningful ever come of it?

“That’s nonsense,” Rommath answered. He dropped the scroll he’d been handed onto the coffee table, but his aim was off. The parchment slid off the edge of the table and fluttered to the ground.

“At least give it a chance, Grand Magister,” Aethas pleaded. “You ordered this research yourself!”

Rommath sighed. He didn’t know how he got himself into this situation. He had even less clue as to why Aethas was wearing only floppy sandals, pastel flower-print shorts, and a soot-stained tank top beneath his usual masked hood. He’d never asked just how many freckles graced the young archmage’s thighs, but here was the answer, and Rommath found he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Fine,” Rommath responded at length. He snatched the scroll from the floor and unfurled it, appraising the contents with an impatient furrow in his brow.  
The parchment was dominated by a diagram of a perfectly proportioned spiral. Hair-thin text hugged the curves of the spiral, written in ink spanning from common pigments and enchanted salts to powdered mana crystals and precious gems. It started concise, detailed stances and incantations that began in the heart of the spiral, near the bottom of the page and somewhat to the left. As the spiral grew, so too did the text into broader theories and more nebulous concepts. Direction, expansion. Heat. Force. It all lead up to one large symbol at the top of the page: Fireball. The most basic of spells.

At length, Rommath shook his head. “Aethas, this will never work. The spell will fail immediately from a backfeed loop.”

“I’ve done it, proven that it works. Just try-”

“Does this have anything to do with the holes burned into your shirt?”

Aethas looked down at himself in silence, as if noticing what he was wearing for the first time.  
“Oh, no, that was something… entirely unrelated,” Aethas responded with some hesitation. “Look, just try it, please. If I am wrong and you set yourself aflame, I will owe you a favor. Unquestioning obedience for, what, a day? A week? You have a well maintained magma barrier, anyway. What have you to lose?”

Rommath’s eyes again strayed to the freckles on Aethas’ thighs. Unquestioning obedience? He couldn’t decide if he wanted to tell Aethas to put some pants on, or take those heinously form-fitting shorts off, and he immediately chastised himself for the thought.

“Stand back,” Rommath ordered. He glanced over the scroll once more as Aethas slipped behind him. Rommath turned to his hearth, raised one hand, and began running through the incantations. He was in control, forming the threads of mana into a tight coil, and as he went through the motions - tracing runes in the air, a vivid glow trailing his fingertips then quickliy burning from existence - he felt the spell expand exponentionally. Just when he thought it would spiral out of control, the pent up magic culminated in a fierce fireball that blasted the fresh logs out of his fireplace.

“That- That worked?” Rommath asked, for once off-guard. Aethas began to answer, but was immediately cut off as Rommath tested the spell again, the hearth once more the subject of a conflagration. It was exhilerating; the spell cast faster and consumed less mana than the traditional fireball, but was just as potent. Better yet, he could apply this method to all of his spellcasting.

Reverently, Rommath rolled up the scroll and secured it with a ribbon, then handed it back to Aethas.  
“Make copies of this, Sunreaver. I want everyone to know.”

“Yes, Grand Magister!” Aethas took the scroll and bowed hastily, and nearly lost his hat in the process. When Aethas saw himself out, Rommath returned his attention to the remains of his carefully prepared stack of firewood. Maybe the archmage wasn’t so inept after all…


	2. One Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Aethas Sunreaver messes up a spell.

It was not often that Aethas ruined a spell. He had to admit, his focus had been lacking since the events in Dalaran. The archmage took a breath to steady himself; fresh air laden with ripe fruits, blooming flowers, and baking bread wafted through a nearby window, followed by the sounds of bustling crowds and children laughing. Life went on.

Not all of the world stopped over one mistake.

Aethas carefully got to his feet and picked his way to the window. There he grasped the golden rod that supported the silken drapes and gingerly nudged the drapes open.  
The view from his family’s tower was as breathtaking as ever. The marble-paved streets of Quel'thalas held aloft throngs of elves; families went out to market, apprentices hurried about on errands, everyone had somewhere to go. Anchored amongst the crowds, the towering spires of Silvermoon City plunged into the abyss of the sky.  
It was dazzling, and downright terrifying.

Aethas pulled the drapes closed, shutting out the world beyond, then turned and took a few tentative steps away from the window. He sat cross-legged in the middle of his ceiling. Light stained pink filtered through the silk drapes and caressed the floor above his head.

No, not all of the world stopped over one mistake.  
Only gravity did.


End file.
